Agnieszka, the protagonist of Uprooted by Naomi Novik, is incapable of staying neat and tidy for any length of time: her clothes rip, or get stained, and she only has to sit on a chair for a moment for the cushion to start unravelling and the wood to splinter:
there was nothing to sit on but a few alarming chairs pushed up against the wall, delicate fragile-looking confections of white paint and gilt and red velvet cushions...
Finally I decided that no one could put a chair in a room and not mean anyone to sit on it, and I gingerly perched on the edge of one of the chairs, holding my skirts close against me.
The moment I sat, the door opened and a servant came in, a woman in a crisp black dress, something like Danka’s age with a small pursed mouth of disapproval. I sprang up guiltily. Four long gleaming red threads followed me unraveling from the cushion, caught on a burr on my skirt, and a long sharp white-painted splinter snagged in my sleeve and broke off.
Agnieszka is being as careful as she can, sits on the chair only for a split-second, but nonetheless manages to damage it. This quality of hers is repeatedly emphasised throughout the novel.
As I read I expected the reason for this to be revealed at some point, and if it was somehow related to her unusually powerful magic. As far as I can see though, no information is given and so Agnieszka's extreme untidiness remains as a kind of unfired "Chekhov's gun".
Note that I refer to her extreme untidiness. I can certainly understand that a peasant girl will be gauche and awkward when she goes to the royal court, or when she is in the presence of the Dragon. As a commenter remarked, that would simply fall into characterisation. But Agnieszka's untidiness seems to go well beyond that - the character is literally unable to walk five steps without ripping her clothes and getting covered in mud.
Did I miss something in the text? Or has Novik given an explanation for this characteristic of Agnieszka in an interview or discussion?